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I saw him out of the corner of my eye.
He was running for the moving bus
As if his life depended on it
Not knowing that it did.
His top speed was around the speed a child walks
Age had not been kind
The four minute mile, a memory.
He reached the bus
Which had waited
And as he went to join the throng
He dropped down dead
All the energy fleeing.
Others crawled over him to get aboard
They had meetings to attend
And people to meet.
The ambulance arrived
And peeled him off the pavement
Like so much rubbish.
Still clutching his bus pass
They hoisted him into the vehicle
Then went to get coffee.
No dignity in death
When the driver is thirsty.

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